“Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.”

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.

The world which credits what is done is cold to all that might have been.

I can’t sleep without knowing there’s hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips… the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.

I am a part of all that I have met.

Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.

Theirs is not to make reply: Theirs is not to reason why: Theirs is but to do and die.

The quiet sense of something lost.

God’s finger touched him, and he slept.

Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.

I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.

The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you. I could walk through my garden forever.

My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.

Life is brief but love is LONG .

My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.

Men at most differ as Heaven and Earth, but women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell.

I came to see a king, not a row of corpses.

Let us ease the Roman people of their continual care, who think it long to await the death of an old man.

My father was a film-maker. He always said he wanted to go like Humphrey Jennings, the legendary director who stepped backwards over a cliff while framing a better shot.

The only true infidelity is for a live man to vote himself dead.

Did I play my role well? If so, then applause, because the comedy is finished!

Faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.

living for a high purpose is as honorable as dying for it.

My lady’s sparrow is dead, the sparrow which was my lady’s delight